


Haughty Elf

by lea_hazel



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Background Canon Typical Violence, Communication Failure, Emotionally Repressed, F/M, Romance, Skyrim Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-31 23:50:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3997864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lea_hazel/pseuds/lea_hazel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dragonborn has a special hatred reserved for Markarth, and Derkeethus is determined to find out why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haughty Elf

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a prompt requesting the Dragonborn being actively pursued by a love interest. Up to you judgment whether it fulfills the prompt well enough.

"I hate this city." 

"So you've said," said Derkeethus, "more than once." 

Pli glanced at him from under her hood. "Problem?" 

"I don't understand why you should return here," he said, "if you hate it so much." 

She stiffened, her mouth tightening into a thin line. "My reasons are my own." 

"I'm sorry," said Derkeethus. "I didn't mean to seem as though I was prying." 

She let out her breath with a loud huff. "It's fine. Let's just move on." 

"Lead on," he said. "I'll follow." 

Later, at the inn, he tried again. 

"You said you were falsely accused." 

Pli bolted up in her chair, her spoon clattering to the table. "What?" 

"Is that why you didn't wish to return to Markarth?" asked Derkeethus. 

"Divines!" said Pli, slumping back. "Is that all you want to know?" 

He nodded. 

"Fine, then," said Pli, "if it'll please you." 

She told him the story. Arriving at the city to witness a scene of senseless violence, a stranger drawn into intrigues and ancient feuds, ultimately framed for murder by a corrupt administration. Admittedly, an excellent reason to avoid the city henceforth, he thought to himself. Still, he thought she was hiding something, holding something back. As gory as the story of her imprisonment was, when he asked about it she seemed almost... relieved. 

"This is why you avoid the Reach, I presume," he said, too casually. 

"This," agreed Pli, "among other reasons." 

Derkeethus looked around him at the emptying barroom. "I can't blame you," he said. "This city makes me... uneasy." 

She glanced at him again, and away, a hidden gesture that he often noticed her make. Privately he thought it must mean she was puzzled, or concerned. Not that he had any way of being certain. He'd only known Pli for three weeks, and already he could tell anyone who asked that the woman was a closed book. Not that many people asked. Her golden skin and hooded eyes did not invite curiosity. 

But Derkeethus just couldn't help himself. His fascination with her gnawed at him, the more so the longer she held herself back. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this preoccupied with someone. No, not preoccupied, drawn. The draw had been immediate, from the moment he noticed her presence, her silent shadow moving over the grate of his prison. 

Derkeethus sighed. 

Her lip curled just slightly. "You're disappointed in me," she said. "I'm not holding up my end of the conversation." 

"Pli, no," he said, frowning. 

"Don't bother denying it," she said with a knife's edge smile. "You're transparent." 

He shook his head. "Surely there's something we can talk about, other than who or what we're going to be hunting tomorrow." 

"The weather?" she suggested, smiling again. 

He stayed silent for a moment before getting up and saying, "I think our drink order is ready." 

He leaned against the bar, watching the bartender wiping down the counter. 

"Your drinks will be ready in just a moment," said the man. 

"Don't mind me," said Derkeethus. 

"No trouble at all," said the bartender, and his eyes flicked briefly to the table where Pli still sat. Not quite glowering, but still exuding her customary welcoming aura. 

"Yes," said Derkeethus," preempting the question, "I'm with her." 

The bartender smirked "Tough job," he said. "Good thing she likes you so much." 

"I'm sorry," said Derkeethus, leaning over the polished wooden counter. "Human facial expressions are very difficult to read. Could you repeat that?" 

"She's quite a character," said the man. "We've seen her about in these parts once or twice. She knows how to stir up trouble, and she's as dangerous an ally as an enemy. Quite a friend to have." 

"Friend," he repeated. 

The bartender nodded. "Here come your drinks." 

Derkeethus pondered this as he carried their drinks to the table: Pli's wine, which she was sure to complain about at length, and his own simple ale. Well, at least it would provide a safe topic of conversation. Rather than him asking her flat out whether she truly liked him, as the man at the bar had said. Should he trust the word of a stranger over his own judgement? Pli's conduct to him had never risen above a scoff or a chilly smile. Was that what friendship looked like among Altmer? He couldn't say he'd had much experience befriending elves. 

Or falling in love with them. 

"Pli," he said as he handed her the wine-cup. He liked saying her name, the way the act of forming the words felt in his mouth. 

She glanced up again, and away. Her signature move. "Thank you," she said, accepting the cup, and somehow managed to make even that simple courtesy cold and aloof. 

Derkeethus sat heavily down on the bench. "I can't wait to take off my boots. You'd think scales would protect one's feet from the road more." 

"Would I?" said Pli. 

"I would," he said, taking a swig. 

Pli pulled back her hood long enough to sip delicately at her cup. "This wine is appalling." 

"I knew you'd say that." 

With her face exposed, her customary sardonic smile was sharper than ever, a knife's edge pulling at her twisted mouth, drawing the eye to the ruined left side of her face. 

"Maybe you knew I'd say it," she said, "because it's true." 

"Let me try, then," he said. 

She handed him the cup and when he took it their fingers brushed. His insides felt like they were twisting up into knots. When he held the cup to his lips he thought about how she had just touched it a moment ago. Maybe it was still warm from her mouth. 

He coughed. "You're right," he said. "It's terrible." 

Pli smiled smugly. 

"You like hearing that," he said. 

Pli shrugged. "That I'm right? Of course. Who doesn't?" 

Derkeethus watched her swirl the cup around. "You wanted me to agree with you," he said softly. 

She straightened in her seat. 

"It's all right," said Derkeethus. "I like you, too." 

He reached over, put his hand over her empty one and gave it a quick squeeze. Then he got up, leaving behind his untouched drink. 

"Good night, Pli," he said, before turning to look for his bed. 

***

"Where to now?" asked Derkeethus. 

Pli stabbed her finger at a point on the map, some way east of the city. 

Derkeethus squinted at the map. "That doesn't look very far. We should be able to follow the road most of the way there." 

"That's the plan," said Pli. 

"And?" he asked. 

Pli got up, hefted her satchel on her back, slapped some coins on the table and picked up her staff. "Let's get moving." 

He sighed but followed her silently until they were outside the city walls. With no one around to overhear, he tried his luck a second time. "Are you going to tell me where we're going?" 

"I showed you on the map," said Pli briskly. "What more can I tell you?" 

"Why are we going there?" asked Derkeethus. "The map doesn't show any buildings in that area. Not even ruins." 

Pli stopped and turned around to face him quite deliberately. "We're to rendezvous with an agent of the Blades, the Emperor's former bodyguards." 

Derkeethus tilted his head. "You're not even a citizen of the Empire." 

" _Former_  bodyguards," she said. "We --  _I_  -- have business with them." 

"All right," he said. 

"Are you quite satisfied?" she asked. 

"Yes," he said simply. "That's exactly what I wanted to know." 

In fact he wished to know a great deal more, but thought it best to wait until Pli was in a better, or rather not worse, frame of mind. Walking through the wilderness generally put her in much better spirits than being among crowds of people, much to no one's surprise. It was a crisp, sunny day and the walk was pleasant enough. Neither Foresworn nor wild animals bothered them and so their journey was uneventful up until their meeting with the Blades. That was when things started getting interesting, and Derkeethus was more than glad that his journeys with Pli allowed him his pick of armor and weapons from the loot. 

All in all, it was an illuminating experience for both of them. Pli sat alone, deep in thought, late into the evening. Finally she announced that they were staying the night and he could do as he pleased until dawn. In the morning, she set a course for Whiterun. 

"I've never been to Whiterun," he said. 

"You'll like it," said Pli. "What did you think of Delphine?" 

He was not accustomed to being asked for an opinion and it took him a moment or two to gather his wits. "Suspicious type, isn't she? Not that I can blame her." 

"Yes," said Pli. "The Thalmor often elicit such a reaction." 

"She seems devoted to her job," he added. "That puts you two on the same side, at least, doesn't it?" 

"Does it?" asked Pli, flicking her eyes in his direction. "I hope so." 

They were silent for the rest of the day, but it was one of the longest conversations he remembered them having, and Derkeethus marked it as a win. Late in the evening, when the lights of Dragonsreach came into view, Pli stopped abruptly. She turned to him and drew back her hood. Underneath it, the skin on the left half of her face was twisted and scarred, her scalp bare. She watched him steadily, meeting his eyes for a long, silent moment. 

"Delphine asked me to find recruits for the Blades," she said. 

"That's wise of her," said Derkeethus. "I don't supposed the Blades will last long with only two members." 

"It's not a very safe job," said Pli. 

"Slaying dragons?" he asked. 

"Not what I meant," she said with a short, sharp shake of the head. "Anyone who joins the Blades will have the Thalmor out for their blood, sooner or later. Only those who have come face to face with a Thalmor agent and lived to speak of it truly know what they're capable of." 

"Like Delphine," he said slowly, trying desperately to follow her line of thought. 

Pli raised her hand to her face. "A Thalmor agent did this," she said. "They have agents in Markarth. That's why I didn't want to go there." She paused, her eyes focused on some point on the horizon somewhere to the left of his head. "I don't have many friends, Derkeethus." 

"I'm your friend!" he said. 

Slowly she brought her eyes back down to look at him. "What would you think about becoming a member of the Blades?" 

Derkeethus hesitated. "I'd rather stay by your side." 

Pli nodded her head once and said, "Let's go. Whiterun is still an hour's walk away." 

She was right. He  _did_  like Whiterun. The marketplace buzzed with good-natured gossip, laughing children played in the streets, and he was no more conscious than usual of being the only Argonian for miles around. Several of the cityfolk in the market greeted Pli with, if not affection, then certainly respect. It seemed she was more than casually known here, and Derkeethus wondered if her assertion about not having friends might be a mite short-sighted. 

There was something appealing about that thought. He liked the idea of being a member of this exclusive group, of people who secretly liked the cantankerous elf, despite her best efforts to the contrary. 

Once she had made the rounds at the marketplace and all the shops were beginning to close for the night Pli walked him down the main street and into one of the wooden houses that lined it. 

They were greeted by a human stranger. "Welcome to Breezehome," the woman said to him. 

He looked back to Pli, who was locking the door behind them. 

"This is my house," she said. 

"I gathered," he replied dryly. 

"That's Lydia," she added, gesturing vaguely at the woman. "She's my housecarl." 

"I am your sword and shield," said the woman. 

Pli disappeared up the stairs without a word. 

"Don't mind her," said Lydia. "She's always like this." 

"We've been on the road for weeks," said Derkeethus. "I had no idea she owned a house." 

Lydia's mouth quirked into a smile. "The Thane does not see fit to grace us with her presence very often." She shook her head in resignation and asked, "Can I get you some wine? Or something to eat?" 

He accepted both gratefully and made himself comfortable by the fire. It would be some time before Pli rejoined them, and then it was only briefly. 

"I have work to do in the lab," she said. "Just find him someplace dry to spread out a bedroll." 

He told himself it was just her way, and that she had already softened to him more than he could have expected or hoped. That thought carried him through a perfectly fine evening until his road weariness conquered him and he begged pardon to go to sleep. Making conversation with Lydia was almost obscenely easy even though they'd only met an hour or two earlier. She bade him a friendly good night and he hunkered down for the night by the glow of the banked coals. 

When Derkeethus woke, the first thing he saw was Pli and Lydia, or rather their legs standing on the platform of the second floor, from his vantage point near the floor. They were speaking of something, that much was clear, but their tones were too hushed to carry down to him. He shook himself and climbed to his feet. Somewhere above him there was a brief clatter of boots. 

"Good," said Pli on her way down. "You're finally up." 

"Is it past dawn?" he asked. "I've gotten accustomed to being woken by the sun." 

Pli shook her head sharply. "No matter. Be ready to leave as soon as you can. I've no time to waste." 

He'd gotten used to her impatience and had no trouble complying. When she locked up the house behind them, he couldn't but notice that there were three of them standing outside it. 

"Lydia," he said amiably, "are you joining us?" 

"No  _us_ ," said Pli brusquely. 

Derkeethus blinked. "What?" 

"Lydia is accompanying me on my errand," she said. 

He slowed his breath, holding the answer until it was fully formed in his mind. "And I?" 

She turned around, glancing this way and that. After a silent moment she said, "You can return to the mines." 

He paused again, more briefly this time. "I see." 

"I really must be going," she said. "Lydia." 

He watched them march down the road and through the city gates without a backward glance. He told himself that he was inured to her tempers, and that it didn't matter very much how she chose to part ways. He turned back, up the road into the city, and decided he might as well make the most of his visit. He was quite certain he'd not see Whiterun again, and he really did like it. 

Then he went home to Darkwater Crossing. His job was waiting for him, and his friends greeted his return with enthusiasm. Hrefna was in raptures. All was as it should be. He could put the dour-faced girl and her mayhem-seeking ways behind him. It would have been easy, too. It  _was_  easy. 

Until she came back. 

It was the last thing Derkeethus could have expected. He didn't really believe his eyes, at first. Not that there were very many elves who wandered through his little mining town, or many visitors at all. 

He watched her walk the paths, stepping fussily around the wandering chickens that pecked through the dirt. Her hood was drawn up high to hide her face and her staff slung over her back. It could hardly be anyone else. She picked her way through the small encampment, a roundabout route that eventually led her to the campfire where he sat. 

"Derkeethus," she said. 

He nodded. "Pli," he said. "I didn't expect to see you here again." 

If she was taken aback by his blunt reply, she made no sign. 

He made a show of looking right and left. "Lydia's not with you." 

"No," she said. 

"Sent her home to Whiterun?" he asked, too casually. 

"With the Blades," she said. "Her home is Sky Haven, now." 

They lapsed into silence. 

He could have said something to ease the tension, he knew, but he chose to hold his words. He had time. 

"You said," she started, drawing out the pauses between her words. "You said you would rather stay with me." 

He blinked. "I did say that." 

"Did you mean it?" 

"Pli," he said. "What are you getting at?" 

"Just tell me," she said, a hint of irritation creeping into her voice. 

"Yes," he said. "Of course I meant it. I'm not in the habit of saying things I don't mean." 

"Good," she said. "Neither am I." 

"Pli!" he said again, and this time it was his voice that sharpened. 

"I'm going to Windhelm, Derkeethus," she said. "Do you want to come with me?" 

"Windhelm," he said. "A fine place for an elf and an Argonian, no doubt." 

"Will you come with me?" she asked a second time. 

"Yes, Pli," said Derkeethus, almost before he knew he would say it. 

"Will you stay with me?" she asked. 

"Yes," he said. "Always." 


End file.
